I have written to you all to inform you that I am still alive. However, I am not so sure if that is a good thing. Coming into this war, i dreamed of becoming a hero. Now, all I dream of is having a pair of dry socks and a solid hour of sleep without the disruptive explosions echoeing in my head. The only think keeping me going at this point is the thought of you guys; my family is the sole reason I am fighting in this war.
The days become longer and longer every day. I have grown used to the raw stench of my lifeless fellow soldiers lying next to me. The rats that accompany us seem to eat more of our shortly supplied food than we do. And I have not only suffered some deformity to my left foot from being wet for so long, but also the loss of many friends who fought beside me. War is not at all the glorious thing it was made out to be back home.
Yesterday, I met a man named Matthew. he was standing next to me in the trench we were firing from when he looked over with the most magnificent blue eyes I have ever seen in my life. He gave me a great big smile, the most warmth I've felt in weeks, thirty seconds before a grenade exploded behind him, blowing off his two arms and the helmet he had on his head. I've never seen a man's smile fade so quickly, like his did, ever in my life. He didnt last two hours after the incident.
All I could think about for the next 2 days was his poor family who will never have the chance to see those big blue eyes ever again. Or did he even have a family? Is there a family somewhere waiting for him to come home, a family who will miss him dearly when notified this loss? I dont know..and I never will know because he is dead now and cannot tell me.
That very well could have been me. Matthew could have watched me be blown up, and then wonder about the life I had left behind. But it wasnt me. It was him. Not even the biggest tank could protect me now.
I am in the hands of the fate that God gave me. So keep me in your prayers and i hope to write again soon.
To my loving family,
I have written to you all to inform you that I am still alive. However, I am not so sure if that is a good thing. Coming into this war, i dreamed of becoming a hero. Now, all I dream of is having a pair of dry socks and a solid hour of sleep without the disruptive explosions echoeing in my head. The only think keeping me going at this point is the thought of you guys; my family is the sole reason I am fighting in this war.
The days become longer and longer every day. I have grown used to the raw stench of my lifeless fellow soldiers lying next to me. The rats that accompany us seem to eat more of our shortly supplied food than we do. And I have not only suffered some deformity to my left foot from being wet for so long, but also the loss of many friends who fought beside me. War is not at all the glorious thing it was made out to be back home.
Yesterday, I met a man named Matthew. he was standing next to me in the trench we were firing from when he looked over with the most magnificent blue eyes I have ever seen in my life. He gave me a great big smile, the most warmth I've felt in weeks, thirty seconds before a grenade exploded behind him, blowing off his two arms and the helmet he had on his head. I've never seen a man's smile fade so quickly, like his did, ever in my life. He didnt last two hours after the incident.
All I could think about for the next 2 days was his poor family who will never have the chance to see those big blue eyes ever again. Or did he even have a family? Is there a family somewhere waiting for him to come home, a family who will miss him dearly when notified this loss? I dont know..and I never will know because he is dead now and cannot tell me.
That very well could have been me. Matthew could have watched me be blown up, and then wonder about the life I had left behind. But it wasnt me. It was him. Not even the biggest tank could protect me now.
I am in the hands of the fate that God gave me. So keep me in your prayers and i hope to write again soon.
All my love,
Johnny